Brioche with maybe-genius Marzipan

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Qu’ils mangent de la brioche.

(not quite “Let them eat cake”. More like “Let them eat really rich buttery yeasted bread”)

Okay Marie Antoinette, if you insist.

When I was in Paris, I ate my weight in brioche. It’s astounding how something packed with butter and eggs can taste like it is made out of air. Proof: my dad commented offhandedly after tasting this brioche how airy it was, and that I must’ve not used a lot of butter. (I chortled. Chortled.)

Ethereally light, cloud-like, melt-in-your mouth– to me, that’s the sign of a superb brioche. Continue reading →